


gonna fly this boat to the moon somehow

by templeofshame



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2013, M/M, Outing, Summer in the City Convention, established phimmy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeofshame/pseuds/templeofshame
Summary: Camera or not, some of these people latch onto drama and seem to breathe rumors, in and out. So what if Phil just wants to drag his boyfriend back to the flat that no one knows they share, where there’s actual safety because it’s just them? (Not even AmazingPhil and Jimmy0010. Those guys can stay on the boat without them.)





	gonna fly this boat to the moon somehow

**Author's Note:**

> all the special thanks to waveydnp!  
> and liza for that brit knowledge

It’s not that Phil doesn’t want to celebrate a little after SitC. The idea is a good one: letting up on those YouTube personas while they’re still all together, while they’re still some kind of unified community. Not that Phil knows all the new, young YouTubers. But even if he did, it’s been a long weekend of social interaction, and he and Jimmy still can’t let their guards down here. And what if Jimmy’s wrong about motion sickness needing the boat to be in motion? “Boat party” sounds more fun than just “party,” but Phil’s stomach isn’t starting from a great place even before they leave solid ground.

It’s just been a stressful weekend; meeting fans is an adrenaline rush, but it’s also a whirlwind of chaos and strangers and the need to give them the AmazingPhil experience they want from him. And then the adrenaline crashes into anxiety, and he barely got to see Jimmy the whole time. Glimpses across crowded rooms and fields, sure, but there’s only so much comfort in that. But there’s no such thing as “off-camera” at Summer in the City, and when Phil thought he could steal a moment, he ruined the only vlogging Jimmy did all weekend. Not that Phil thinks it would be so terrible to post footage in which he says hi to Jimmy, it’s not as if they’ve never been recognized out in public together. But there was familiarity there, maybe a hint of tenderness, and they’re not even supposed to be friends.

*

Back in the beginning, they agreed not to be on camera together, not to mention each other outside of the larger group, not to let their audiences suspect or even imagine the possibility. 

“We’re not for sale, or for their… consumption. Well. Guess we each are, in our way. But not together. Not _us_ ,” Jimmy’d said. “We’re not some ‘kickthestickz’ or ‘cherimon’ shit.” He could make it sound derisive, but Phil could feel the body next to his tense a bit, bracing against the vulnerability. Because under those words, Phil heard _we’re real, we have something real_. 

It wasn’t until later, when the giddiness died down, that Phil processed the other part of it: _we have something to hide_.

In the moment, though, Phil thinks of how Jimmy’s housemates let him in without a word, because they know he belongs here, on Jimmy’s bed. The people who’re _actually in their lives_ know. After the Skype Incident over Easter holiday, even his parents know. YouTube can be the exception that proves the rule.

“Only our business, innit?” Jimmy asks, more of a question than the words are on the surface, with the way he’s watching Phil’s mind churn. “‘Sides, I have to protect you. Can’t have jealous fans tearing you down, talking ‘bout how young I am. Prime of my life, shackled to an _older_ man.”

Phil reaches out to shove Jimmy, hand lingering on his shoulder.

“... However handsome he may be. Hairline definitely not receding at all. You’ve gotta try a quiff, babes.”

*

So, the fact that the party is just YouTubers doesn’t make it safe, even if most people know not to film at YouTuber parties. Camera or not, some of these people latch onto drama and seem to breathe rumors, in and out. So what if Phil just wants to drag his boyfriend back to the flat that no one knows they share, where there’s actual safety because it’s just them? (Not even AmazingPhil and Jimmy0010. Those guys can stay on the boat without them.)

Instead, it’s Jimmy doing the dragging — by prior arrangement, with brief but meaningful eye contact, and with the help of Chris and PJ. But mostly, Phil’s aware of how many times he’s been the reason Jimmy comes home early from a party, or they stayed in when Jimmy wanted to take him out. Even at York, he could rarely find that specific type of energy; to go out to dinner or stroll across the bridge, yes, but Phil likes his 3 ams cuddled in bed or in front of the TV, not drunk off WKDs and giving a cab driver the wrong address. But that’s how they work; they balance each other out. 

And the boat party itself feels like a compromise. It’s nothing crazy, not like the fabled time Jimmy broke into a yacht. But inside, it’s hot and dark and drunk people are dancing, so the gentle rocking motion under the dance floor isn’t enough to make it any different from a club, really. And there’s the upper deck, where there’s a gentle breeze and, Phil has to admit, the rhythm of the boat beneath his feet is more comforting than nauseating. 

That’s where Phil drifts when PJ stops giving him an excuse to orbit Jimmy. He glances back to see Jimmy watching him, and for a second he wants to just stand there, holding those _eyes_ across a room (cabin?) crowded with plausible deniability. Jimmy’s swaying to the beat, he’s got a drink in his hand, and there’s a couple YouTubers they don’t know around him, chatting and not evidently trying to fuck him. He looks happy; he’s good at that kind of professional mingling thing in a way Phil isn’t, and the others don’t seem to have noticed where he’s looking. But they shouldn’t push their luck.

The night breeze doesn’t blow away the tightness across Phil’s forehead that hints at a headache to come, but it’s a relief all the same. There are clusters of people scattered across the deck, but it feels like he can just lean against the railing by himself without catching judgmental eyes. He can ground himself in the cool metal and the way the unrestrained gusts of air combine with the boat’s bobbing to let him imagine he’s floating. Maybe floating shouldn’t be grounding him, but at least he’s in the moment, breathing and not dwelling about things he has to wait for. Like running his fingers through Jimmy’s hair.

Well, he can people-watch. He’s not gonna text Jimmy and ask to leave. Jimmy’s having fun and probably networking. If Phil can’t do that, at least he can stay out of Jimmy’s way and be patient. They have every other night to be themselves, in their own space.

The cluster across the deck from Phil doesn’t have anyone he knows in it; they’re young and energetic and maybe that shouldn’t make him feel old, but Jimmy’s rubbed off on him. Not far from Phil, closer to the stairs, there’s a familiar face: Jack Howard is chatting to someone Phil doesn’t know. Not Jack’s type; she’s got a style of emo fringe Phil knows well, but longer hair, dark eye makeup, and a lip ring glinting in the dim light. But then again, she’s listening to him, and his hands say he’s adamant about the topic, so maybe that’s his type as much as anything. Not that Phil, of all people, would be one to speculate about such things. 

Her laugh rings out across the deck, loud and inelegant in a way that seems real, if nothing else. Phil could eavesdrop, but he can’t bring himself to care what Jack’s talking about. Phil gets his phone out again, maybe just to tell Jimmy he feels grounded and floaty at the same time, and not vomitty. Maybe he could give Jimmy a flicker of a different kind of smile, one nobody else on this boat can provide.

It’s a nice thought. For a moment. 

But then Jimmy’s coming up the steps and fringe girl is whispering his name and Jack is saying something to her, but all Phil hears is “he’s gay.”

*

The first time Phil was outed, he and Jimmy were… not quite together. They’d seen each other’s videos, met at the LGBT society, and they were _acquainted_ , but nothing more than casual. If they’d moved faster—if Jimmy hadn’t been reluctant to give up the allure of strangers across dimly-lit clubs, if Phil had trusted that his idealized romance could evolve out of a fairly flirty and moderately drunken Gregg’s run—maybe the safe uni bubble of openness would have stayed intact. But instead, Phil’s profile was up, and seen, and distributed to all of his Rossendale friends. Phil felt like he was plummeting from the nest before he’d even hatched, trying to get free of the eggshell before an inevitable collision. And Jimmy, to Phil’s surprise, was there. 

He was there with a lot less alcohol than before, a lot more late-night talks, and about the same amount of sex. Even when he was off in London, doing work experience at the BBC, there were texts, and Skype, and feelings Phil’d almost given up on ever feeling. And when Jimmy got back to York, he’d pick up Haribo and popcorn along with his usual Sainsbury’s haul and head to Phil’s flat. 

His _boyfriend_ ’s flat. Because somewhere in the panic and fear and anxiety—maybe when Jimmy sat with Phil as he opened that MSN group chat— it was clear that something had shifted. They didn’t need to look anywhere else.

*

The thing is, even though the word “gay” is ringing in his ears, Phil can’t react. He’s not supposed to go to Jimmy, who’s turned to greet fringe girl with the open kind of smile that says he didn’t hear. He’s not supposed to yell at Jack, to argue or rant or push him off the damn boat. He’s not supposed to have heard, but even if he did, he’s not supposed to care.

Phil makes do with glaring at the back of Jack’s head. Should he text Jimmy? He still has his phone in his hand, and he can save Jimmy a potentially mortifying ambush. Mostly, though, Phil wants to rail against how deeply unfair it is: that Jack can make out with whoever, so long as no one’s filming, and the rumors fade quickly, while Jimmy does what? Keeps distance between them, puts everything behind “hide and protect,” and still, there it is, coming out of Jack’s mouth like it’s nothing.

Phil grips the railing harder as he feels the spiral starting; he’s imagining what else Jack might be saying to what other strangers. He’s not been even as cautious as Jimmy, and it seems that wasn’t enough. The Rossendale situation had ended up alright, his friends hadn’t freaked out, and now most of them have met Jimmy. But YouTube… Jack Howard is a coworker, not a friend, and there’s money and jealousy and popularity politics all tangled up in it. Sometimes it feels like the lunchroom in year 7. The only reason he gets on with most of these people is that he keeps to himself, and until now, he was pretty sure they didn’t have anything to hold against him.

Jimmy, on the other hand, actually talks to people and still seems to get on with nearly everyone. Well, he has some harsh opinions he vents to Phil, but he lets them all think they get on. Like right now. Watching him talk to this girl, you’d think they were old friends. Phil knows Jimmy, knows the cracks in his chummy performance and they’re… not there. Near as Phil can tell, the laughter is real; they’re actually hitting it off. It’s not something that happens with Jimmy, not instantly like this. Even with Phil, it was a journey. Easy now to say it was worth it, but back then it wasn’t so clear.

Phil looks down at the text he’d started typing. A surefire way to take away that smile, to derail Jimmy’s train of thought from whatever they’re talking about. Maybe the morning, when Jimmy’ll likely be tending to a hangover, won’t be the best time either, but they have plenty of time, in their own flat, to worry about who knows what and how to handle it. Jimmy might even be ready to come out; they both could, really, without putting a spotlight on their life together. 

But right now, Jimmy’s purely enjoying himself, and Phil just wants to watch. Just for a minute, before he starts caring about who sees again, and then he’ll go find someone to superficially chat to before he makes his way home. 

He’ll send that text instead, the ‘meet you at home’ text. And he’ll leave a glass of water on the bedside table. And whether it’s late tonight or in the morning, he’ll get to hear about this girl. Maybe Jimmy’ll get a friendship out of it, one that can transform tonight into a story they can laugh about someday.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](https://templeofshame.tumblr.com/post/186492154030/gonna-fly-this-boat-to-the-moon-somehow-babys)!


End file.
